


Hoodwinked

by Joseikage



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Father Figure, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Revenge, Wholesome
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-17
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-02-23 05:40:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23706589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joseikage/pseuds/Joseikage
Summary: Jesse McCree had been on the lam for awhile now, taking odd jobs and doing his best to help people where he could, despite the huge bounty that was still on his head. He was always extremely careful not to get caught since, depending on where it was, it could earn him a trip to a high-security prison, or a one-way ticket to the hanging block. Now, he sits on death row, in the small cell of a little town out on Route 66. He wasn't sure how he got nabbed by the authorities since he was always so cautious, but it didn't matter anymore. Nothing did. He was tired and ready for the end to come.





	1. WILL TO LIVE

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! :) This is something new that I thought of. Originally, it was going to be another sorta smutty love story, but then my brain went in a different direction with it and thought that it could be something really cute instead. So, hopefully ya'll enjoy this wholesome, bittersweet sorta story! And stay safe during these crazy times we're in!
> 
> I don't own Overwatch, that's Blizzard's, but this story came straight from mah brain and the female character in it is mine. <3

Jesse McCree sat in his cell dejectedly, staring at water dripping down from the ceiling of the leaky, cement cell he was being kept in.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

His mouth hung open boredly at the repetitious sound, though he was thankful there was any sound at all. Other than the water falling from the ceiling, it was silent as the grave. His wavy, sandy-brown hair was a dusty mess, his clothes were torn and ragged, his armour was gone, and his gun, Peacekeeper, was missing from its holster.

The spark in his eyes was all but diminished as he resigned himself to his end. His stomach growled in protest, as it hadn't seen a good meal in days, and he rubbed it with his left, Cyber Prosthetic hand. The ropes around his hands were tight; too tight and thick to pry apart, as he had already discovered the moment he was brought in the night before.

He let out a heavy sigh as he thought of his friends back in Overwatch. 

_No... Family..._ he corrected himself. He missed them dearly. He missed what they were to him: a light in the darkness; they were the people that pushed him to become a better person. A weak chuckle escaped his lips, and for a brief moment the spark in his eyes had returned.

 _I was such a little badass back then... but Gabe and Jack set me straight._ Then, a frown crossed his lips and his eyes darkened. _Before it all went to hell, anyways..._

Out of habit, he moved both hands to his vest pocket for a cigar to calm his nerves, and then clicked his tongue in disappointment as he quickly remembered the Sheriff and his deputy frisking him and taking all of his belongings, including his favourite cigarillos.

Suddenly, a loud _clang_ echoed through the hall and McCree sat up straight, his eyes shifting over to the door of his cell. Someone's whistling reached his ears; it was an old tune he knew, and the Deputy quickly came into view, smiling slightly as he stood in front of the cell.

"Breakfast... most important meal o' the day," he drawled, "and for you, it will be your last, so what can I get ya, McCree?"

"Well a cigar and some liquid courage would do just nicely, if you don't mind, Deputy," McCree politely replied, working hard to keep up the facade of strength.

The deputy laughed.

"That's just like an 'ole cowboy ta request that. It just so happens, I have both, and they're not just for anyone."

He leaned in closer to the cell and murmured, "I know what you did for those people on that train headed for Houston. My sister was on it that day, so from my family to you, thank you."

He lit up one of McCree’s cigarillos and placed it in the gunslinger's mouth. Then, he pulled two shot glasses and a bottle of whiskey out of his coat pockets and poured them both a drink. Jesse was surprised at this final act of kindness. He had figured Talon would’ve worked extra hard to cover up that train heist so that everyone either forgot about it, or at least conveniently “remembered” that it was McCree who had robbed it.

The cowboy took several deep puffs of the cigar and drew it back to stare at the embers before his gaze flickered down to the ropes that bound his hands together. The deputy clicked his tongue chidingly.

“Come now, McCree. I hope you’re not tryin’ ta take advantage of my generosity here... If I see a single one of those lil cinders hit that rope of yours and start burnin’ it, I’ll have to shoot you here and now,” he warned.

“Well, ya can’t blame an outlaw for tryin’. It’s a tough habit to break, really,” McCree drawled, shooting the deputy a devilish grin before he picked up the shot glass, raised it and then downed it. They had a couple more shots together and once McCree finished his cigar, the deputy hid all evidence of his kindness and stared at the man on death row sadly.

“The Sheriff will be comin’ for ya soon. I hope the good Lord sees fit to grant you mercy,” he prayed aloud, taking off his hat.

McCree almost scoffed and made some cynical comment like, “the Lord never saw fit to show me mercy before, so why start now?” but he held his tongue out of respect for the kindness he was shown.

Instead, he bowed his head in acknowledgement and said, “Thank you kindly, Deputy.” The deputy departed and once more, McCree was left sitting alone in the hot, dry, unnervingly quiet cell. He sighed and looked up at the small, barred window that only let in a trickle of light.

 _Yep, the ‘good Lord’ never did have miracles in store for me..._ he thought to himself morosely as he leaned back against the wall nearest him and closed his eyes, letting the streams of light rest against his eyelids.

Then, the light disappeared. McCree scrunched up his nose in confusion and cracked one eye open to see a woman kneeling at the bars.

“Hmph... come to gawk and jeer at the badass outlaw one more time before he’s hung?” he demanded, narrowing his eyes distrustfully.

She grinned at him, shook her head, and replied, “Actually, I’m here to make you an offer.” McCree raised one eyebrow at the woman.

“And just what offer do you have for a dying man?” he scoffed in disbelief.

“I can set you free,” she told him, bowing extravagantly. McCree sized her up, examining her from head to toe. She had pale skin and bright red hair that glowed like fire in the sunlight. Her eyes were a deep, emerald green, her cheeks were round, and a swath of freckles adorned her cheeks and nose. She smiled at him mischievously with ruby-red lips. He looked at her arms and legs next and shook his head.

 _Slim muscling... There’s no way this girl can fight. She lacks the strength. Maybe she can shoot?_ He huffed and shook his head once more.

“It’ll take a hell of a lot more than a pretty smile to bust me outta here, Pumpkin,” he argued.

“But what if I _could_ get you out?” she insisted.

“Then, I’d have to know what I’m sellin’ my soul for. What do you want in return?”

“All I’m asking for is a favour. When the time comes, I’ll collect it, but until then, you and I travel together; just to make sure you don’t try to pull one over on me.”

McCree let out an interested hum, but mulled things over for a bit.

“You’re not from around here, are ya?” he asked her, noticing her lack of Southern accent.

“No, I’m actually from Washington. My parents are—were... archarologists...” There was a sorrowful look in her eyes until she finally turned her gaze away from Jesse’s to look over her shoulder behind her.

 _Somethin’ bad happened to her. Could she be askin’ for help gettin’ revenge?_ he guessed.

The woman suddenly sniffed loudly and declared, “Alright, outlaw, time’s up. What’s it gonna be? You gonna take a chance on me, or go to the noose?”

McCree sighed deeply. He had already resigned himself to his fate, but he was slightly curious about the ember-haired woman. Still, he slumped back against the wall.

“What’s there to live for anymore? Everywhere I go, people treat me like I’m a monster. It don’t matter how much good I do in this world; they’re always gonna remember the bad,” he admitted. The woman stared at him sympathetically, watching as he leaned his head back against the wall of the dusty cell. “I’m real tired and just wanna rest now.”

The woman leaned forward as far as she could and stuck her arm through the bars towards him.

“There is _always_ something to live for. You just have to dig deep and find it. Think about all of those people who still _do_ need your help. And I... I could really use some help, myself...” she stared at the defeated man a moment longer before she bowed her head in defeat and tears pooled in her eyes.

He had been her last hope, and now he was going to die. McCree opened his eyes and saw her reaching out to him.

_Guess I could give it one more try. What the hell..._

He sighed, rose to his feet, and grabbed her hand gently in both of his. Her head rose and she peered into his golden-brown eyes with teary ocean-blue eyes of her own and a smile on her face.

She mused, “See... there you go. Looks like you found it.” As she let go of his hands, McCree shook his head.

“I dunno what kinda hopeless romantic you are, but that didn’t change a damn—” he was interrupted as a _clang_ sounded down the hall.

The woman leaned in and whispered, “Well if you do change your mind, ask the singer for a kiss as a last request!”

“Wait, what?!” McCree demanded, but the woman had already fled the scene. The deputy came down the hall once more and opened the outlaw’s cell.

“Alright, McCree. It’s time,” the deputy informed him with a tinge of sadness in his voice. McCree let out a snort of laughter.

“Don’t be growin’ soft on me now, Deputy. Everybody’s gotta go at some point,” he said slyly, “but thank you for your kindness. I won’t soon forget it.” The deputy smiled thoughtfully at him and McCree added, “Also I have one last request. I’d like to be dressed in my usual getup. Could I get my hat, serape, and armour back?”

The Deputy nodded. He closed McCree’s cell and opened a large chest. After inspecting McCree’s clothing and armour for any hidden components, he helped the outlaw dress. He snapped the chestplate into place, put the serape over his neck in a way that didn’t cover his tied hands, and lastly placed the brown, bullet-decorated hat on his head.

“Thank you...” McCree murmured gratefully.

“Pleasure’s all mine,” the deputy responded as he led him out to the gallows. The Sheriff stood at the noose with cold, beady eyes. He looked eager...

 _Too eager,_ McCree thought. Beneath the gallows, a crowd had gathered to watch him die. The thought of it alone sickened him and he cast his gaze downward.

When he climbed up the stairs and arrived at the platform, the sheriff growled, “Good riddance, filth,” into his ear as he pulled the noose tight against his neck. He made sure both ropes, the one around his neck and the one around his hands, were secure and then walked over to the lever unceremoniously. “Any last words?”

“WAIT!” A woman with thick, maroon lipstick, brown, shimmery eyeshadow, and a cute black and deep red outfit with a matching black hat and boots came running up to the gallows. She ran a hand through her rich, coal-black hair and smiled sweetly at the Sheriff.

“Oh, Sheriff,” she drawled, “don’t you go pullin’ that there lever just yet! Remember what we discussed?” The Sheriff sighed deeply and took his hand off the lever.

“Go on ahead, Ms. Moonshine...” he seemed to lament. The woman beckoned to a few guys in the crowd and they quickly hooked up an electric guitar, a bass guitar, a microphone, and a drum set to a portable sound system. Ms. Moonshine stared thoughtfully at McCree as he huffed impatiently.

The Sheriff noticed her staring and assured her, “No need to worry, Miss. This scoundrel’s not a threat to anyone anymore.” He grabbed McCree roughly by the hair, knocking his hat aside. The outlaw gritted his teeth and his eyes lit up furiously. Ms. Moonshine winced and quickly put her hand on the Sheriff’s arm to stop him.

“Now, now, Sheriff... There’s no need to poke at him. Man’s already on Death Row, here,” she protested. He scoffed and shoved McCree’s head away from him roughly.

“Ain’t a man to me. He’s nothin’ but a mangy animal what needs puttin’ down.” He spat on the ground at McCree’s feet and walked off a short distance away. With Ms. Moonshine’s other band members in their places, she walked over to the microphone and counted down.

The guitar began to strum an old song that McCree hadn’t heard in years. Then, Ms. Moonshine grabbed the microphone and began to sing with a voice like an angel; a stark contrast to the lyrics in the song.

“I’m hell on heels. Say what you will. I done made the Devil a deal. He made me pretty, he made me smart, and I’m gonna break me a million hearts. I’m hell on heels. Baby, I’m comin’ for you!” she sang passionately. McCree let out a sigh as her voice soothed him ever so slightly.

 _Well, at least it’s good entertainment before I go, and hell, a kiss from a beautiful woman ain’t a bad send off, either. Might as well take that lady up on her offer. If she really can get me out of here, then maybe..._ McCree’s thoughts were interrupted by the Sheriff re-checking the ropes at his throat and hands.

“Any last words, Outlaw?” he demanded.

“Well,” McCree said with a sly smile, looking past him towards Ms. Moonshine, “no last words, but I do have a last request I’d like to make. After hearin’ how beautiful your voice was, I was taken by you, Ms. Moonshine. I would be honoured if I could get a kiss. It’d be a sweet final farewell from the world, ma’am.”

“Why you no-good, rotten little—!” the Sheriff bristled.

“Oh no, Sheriff! It’s quite alright. I don’t mind granting him this one request. A kiss is such a small thing, and he is quite handsome for an Outlaw,” she mused, smiling as she walked over to McCree.

He stared into her eyes, searching them as she ran her hands across his face, along his broad shoulders, behind his neck, down his back, and to the ropes on his hands. She then grabbed the rope connected to his neck, and yanked him towards her roughly, kissing him sloppily. He thought he felt her almost draw back from him and heard her let out a groan of disgust. Her tongue crashed into his, and McCree was taken aback by her and stunned at how terrible a send-off this would really be.

 _What in the hell is goin' on here...? God... she is a horrible kisser...!_ The disappointed cowboy lamented.

Finally, she pulled herself away from him, obviously flustered, and embarrassed, McCree noticed.

“Hopefully,” she said as she panted hard, “that was a nice final farewell for ya, Mr. McCree,” she said bashfully.

“Oh, it... was ma’am,” he lied, doing his best to hold his tongue. He tried to smile, but was still in shock at how terrible she had been.

“Well, they say that Hell sends a black stallion to collect you, but... I hope you find a dappled mare instead. They look like angels.” McCree tilted his head in confusion at the woman but smiled and bowed his head gratefully to her. He watched as she stepped down from the gallows and disappeared into the crowd.

Then, he faced forwards, took a deep breath, and waited for the end to come. There was a loud click and the platform beneath him fell; his feet following it as he dropped. There was a brief tug at his throat before the rope snapped, and as he instinctively went to catch his fall, the twine around his wrists also ripped apart at the slightest pressure.

As he hit the ground, he heard several popping noises beneath him and thick, white smoke began to fill the air. Chaos broke out as suddenly, everywhere the members of the crowd seemed to step, another of the smoke bombs was activated. McCree struggled to find his way through the smoke, following the Sheriff’s voice as he tried, and failed, to regain control.

“Deputy Lowell! Hurry up and secure—!” the Sheriff was yelling, but a hard punch in the side of the face from McCree silenced him immediately.

“Oops, wrong hand!” He shook his mechanical hand daintily as if punching the Sheriff had left a dent in it. Then, he crouched low over the Sheriff's body.

“Now, unlike your mama, mine taught me that spittin’ was _rude_ , but she didn’t say nothin’ ‘bout stealin’ a gun from an asshole,” McCree quipped, reaching down and taking the Sheriff’s gun and holster. He picked up his hat, placed it on his head, and turned to see the Deputy pointing a gun at him. They stared off at each other for a few moments before the Deputy nodded and lowered his weapon.

McCree holstered his gun and smiled at Deputy Lowell, tipping his hat at him before jumping backwards off the gallows and disappearing into the fog.


	2. THE PACT

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blizzard owns Overwatch, but I own this story! :) I hope you enjoy it!

As he made his way back out of the smoke, someone dressed in a black cloak and leather travelling outfit with a sinister-looking mask over their face rode up on a gorgeous horse, stopping just in front of him. They had a large duffel bag hanging on their back.

“Get on, idiot. We’re escaping the law,” a dark, raspy voice commanded him. His hand hovered over the gun at his side until he remembered Ms. Moonshine’s words to him:

_“I hope you find a dappled mare instead.”_

“Or maybe you want to be hung for _real_ this time?” the person demanded impatiently. Their voice took him by surprise, as it was the same sort of voice changer he had encountered in someone else he met a while back; someone who was a true villain, not just something someone would read about in fairy tales.

_Well, what other choice do I have?_

McCree gritted his teeth as he begrudgingly got on the horse, and as they started to ride off, the cloaked person pulled out a detonator and pushed a button. An explosion tore through the air and McCree looked back to see the Sheriff’s station up in flames.

“You just blew up the goddamned Sheriff’s station!” McCree exclaimed in shock.

“No one was inside. Besides, that asshole had it coming,” the cloaked figure put bluntly. “This will keep them busy for awhile.” Then, they noticed the gun on McCree’s hip as they rode. “You won’t need that anymore. Go ahead and toss it but keep the bullets. I’ve got better equipment for you.”

McCree stared at the figure for several long moments before he unloaded the gun and tossed it off the side of the canyon. After ten more minutes of riding, they came to a hidden area in the canyon that wrapped around into a cave. The mysterious person jumped off the horse gracefully and tied it to a rock before gently stroking its nose.

 _That’s definitely not somethin’ a villain would do at all..._ McCree surmised, smiling at the cloaked figure’s gentle demeanour as they retrieved the supplies off the horse’s back and headed into the cave. McCree reluctantly followed them and watched in awe as they removed their hood and mask and pulled a cap off their head, shaking out their long, vivid auburn hair.

“You?!” McCree asked in shock. The woman turned and smiled at him, still wearing the makeup of Ms. Moonshine.

“Yep, it’s me! Nice to meet you properly, Jesse McCree!” she greeted him. He tipped his hat to her and grinned.

“You know, I don’t believe I caught your name... Or is it really Ms. Moonshine?” he teased her. She laughed and reached her hand out to him.

“Roxanne Rose, but you can call me Rose. I guess Roxy works too? Eh, whatever floats your boat.”

“Call me McCree. When you get to know me better, I’ll let you call me Jesse, alright, Rose? Now, tell me... how in the _hell_ did you manage to pull off a stunt like _this?”_ He sat down on a nearby rock and crossed his arms, waiting to hear the story. Rose let out a loud laugh and shook her head.

“Easy. The Sheriff isn’t just an asshole; he’s a gullible idiot too.” Then, Rose’s face turned the colour of her name as she admitted, “I was searching for you for a long while and just discovered you’d been taken in. I quickly created the persona, Ms. Moonshine, and called up the Sheriff to talk statistics with him.”

She chuckled and shook her head in remembrance of it, her blue eyes gleaming with excitement. “I told him how... ‘concerned’ I was about executions becoming a thing of the past and that they may even be outlawed soon unless we did something about it. So, I told him that I perform mini concerts building up to the executions in order to get people’s blood pumping. I told him it inspires people and makes them excited for the actual execution.”

“He bought it, of course. So, I decided to have two disguises to hide my identity: Ms. Moonshine, and the Reaper Mk. 2,” she finished, smiling slyly at the gunslinger, who tensed at the mention of “Reaper.”

“I knew that voice in the mask sounded familiar... Where the hell did you meet Reaper?” McCree demanded.

“I actually met him a while back... he and another Talon agent, Doomfist, approached my parents and asked them to be a part of Talon. They needed help with something big.” Rose put her finger on her chin and stared up in thought as though she was trying to remember everything.

“It had to do with... reawakening Anubis, some ancient God Program that was deactivated by Overwatch. I didn’t know who Reaper was, but I told him his voice was cool. He said thanks, gave me a little toy cat, and walked away. My parents refused Doomfist’s offer and later told me what Talon was and some of the things they had done.”

Her eyes watered and she held her hands against her chest sadly. “They actually wanted to join Overwatch instead, but it had been disbanded. They decided to seek out a doctor who used to be part of it, Dr. Angela Ziegler, but before they could, they were murdered. I believe that Talon had a hand in it, but I can’t figure out how. Plus, I have no proof.”

“Okay, and what about that _kiss?"_ McCree demanded, trying to take her mind off her parents’ death. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment and she quickly turned away from the handsome gunslinger.

“Th-that was necessary for me to be able to secretly slice your ropes _after_ the Sheriff had checked them to make sure they were secure. Believe me, I didn't want to do it in the first place,” she admitted. "It was so gross. Plus, you're like..." McCree stared at her expectantly as she thought, but didn't say the word "ancient."

"Well, I'll have you know that I didn't enjoy it too much myself, if I'm bein' honest. Also, how'd you cut those ropes, anyways? I didn't see a knife or anythin'."

She showed McCree a device hidden in her sleeve and pulled several strands of hair away from her right temple to reveal a small, circular device attached to it. She pulled it off.

“This little device reads brainwaves and lets you make it slide out and in when you want it to. Anyways though...”

“Wait,” McCree interrupted, “Where’d you get the horse? It’s beautiful, and awful rare ‘round these parts...” Rose cleared her throat and smiled sheepishly.

“I uh... might have... _acquired_ her from the Sheriff...”

“You mean _stole_ ,” McCree corrected her as he sighed in disappointment. Rose crossed her arms.

“Hey! Don’t judge me! I’m sure you’ve done much worse than me back in your heyday!” she protested. He scoffed.

“Yeah, but _you’re_ just _startin’_ out your life of crime, whereas _I’ve_ gone straight.”

“Oh! Speaking of crime, I stole your stuff back for you!” Rose reached over and grabbed the duffel bag from its spot on the cave floor before standing in front of the handsome gunslinger. He went to take it from her, but she quickly pulled it away.

“Oh, but you might not want it back... You know, with it being acquired illegally and all... And while we’re at it, maybe we should return you to the Sheriff because that was illegal too...” She shot him a sly smile and batted her eyelids a few times.

“Oh, just give it here!” McCree said impatiently, snatching the bag and unzipping it. He smiled brightly as he pulled out his holster, gun, belt, knife, pack of cigarillos, lighter, and wallet.

“So, after the concert, I threw on my Reaper Mk. 2 disguise, ran back to the Sheriff’s office, and smashed the lock on the confiscation chest. I grabbed whatever I thought was yours, plus a nice little pair of .44 Magnums for myself! They aren’t as beautiful as your piece, but I reckon they’re a start,” she explained, sitting on a rock and leaning her back against the wall proudly.

“Then, I got you and blew up the place, of course!”

McCree attached his knife sheath, put his holster on, secured his gun inside of it, and turned towards her with a menacing scowl on his face as he approached her in a threatening manner.

“You did good today, but... how do you know I’m not gonna just shoot you where you stand here and now so I don’t owe you a damned thing?” he growled. His voice was extremely menacing, reminding her of the low growl of a wolf, and Rose shuddered as he towered over her intimidatingly, his hand hanging loosely by his gun.

Rose grinned sheepishly up at him, and for a moment, she almost lost her nerve. It was difficult to remain under the piercing gaze of McCree’s honey-brown eyes. Before, they had been playful and inviting, but they were now cold and deadly. Even so, she remembered what she had learned about McCree and willed herself to stand up and take a step closer to him. He backed up and eyed her warily as she came face to face with him.

“Because you’re a good person,” she explained, staring into his eyes with such determination that McCree was actually touched by it. His eyes widened ever so slightly in surprise, but he kept them trained on her. Then, he let out a gruff snort and shot her a sly grin before walking over and sitting down on a nearby rock. Rose smiled in satisfaction and began to remove her makeup.

“Well, I guess what I should be askin’ is... what job is so tough that you need the worst outlaw in the West to help ya out?” She turned back to him, a sad expression on her face, and hesitated.

“I... I’m not sure I wanna tell you just yet. To be honest, I don’t want it to endanger anyone. No collateral damage. If I go down, that’s one thing, but I couldn’t bear it if anyone else followed after me. For now, I’d like for you to teach me everything you know about shooting.” 

McCree watched her thoughtfully as she gathered some supplies from her bag and washed her face before she suddenly floundered about with her eyes closed.

“Ah, damn... I got soap in my eyes and forgot my towel by the bag,” she cursed. McCree sighed and looked over where her stuff was to find a white hand towel.

“Hang on, don’t move. I’ll bring it to ya,” he offered, grabbing it and putting it in front of her. “Here ya go.”

“Thank you,” Rose said with a sincere smile before wiping her face on McCree’s serape.

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake!” McCree growled. Rose opened her eyes as she smelled sweat and cigar smoke and saw orange and red.

 _Not my towel... Oh._ She slowly raised her head and grinned sheepishly at McCree, who was glowering down at her. Then, he got a strange look on his face and gaped at her in shock. Now that her makeup was off, he could see her clearly.

“You... you’re younger than you look, and tall for your age too, ain’tcha? How old are you?” he demanded, moving away from her.

“Does age really matter in this case? We’re not running a casino, here, you’re just teaching me how to shoot a gun,” Rose bit back angrily, crossing her arms. She turned her back on the outlaw and he grabbed her shoulder, whirling her back around and forcing her to look at him.

“How... old...?” he pressed her, narrowing his eyes. She rolled her eyes and then focused them on the dirt floor as she kicked her feet in embarrassment.

“Seventeen...” she admitted. McCree let go of her arm, backed away from her, and put his hand to his mouth in shock before diving towards her bag, about to rustle through it. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Rose blocked his way to the bag, covering it with her hands.

“I’m lookin’ for mouthwash so I can cleanse my damn mouth of the kiss I had with a fuckin’ seventeen-year-old!" he exclaimed in disgust as he paced back and forth around the cave. "Talk about Jail Bait. I mean, what the hell?!"

_I thought I'd done wrong before, but this is on a whole new level. Holy shit... I'm definitely goin' to hell now..._

"Wow, for an outlaw, you're such a baby! It was just a kiss, and it wasn't even a good one... Besides, that was literally the _only_ way I could get you out of those ropes!"

"No, this is a mistake... I shouldn't even be in this cave with you right now. I-I can take you somewhere and get you some help, but you're just a minor. Hell, I’m old enough to be your damn father!” he exclaimed, glaring at her in shock. As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them as a hazy, sorrowful look filled her eyes.

“My father... is dead. He was murdered, same as my mom...” she said, balling her fists up tightly as tears ran down her face. “You’re not going to help me... Saving you was a mistake. You’re just like all the other asshole adults out there who think I’m just some kid!”

“Now, hang on just a minute. I never said—” McCree started, the look on his face softening.

“Take the horse and the supplies but leave my bag. I’ll find someone else to help me out,” she said, wiping her face as she fled from the cave. McCree groaned loudly, still struggling with how to deal with everything that just happened.

 _She’s just a kid... but then again, so was I._ He sat down on a rock and leaned his head against his mechanical hand as he recalled his days in the Deadlock Rebels. He was with them for years, from the age of fifteen, until Overwatch snatched him up. He grinned knowingly and stared off towards the cave entrance after Rose before a morose expression appeared on his face and a deep sigh left him.

 _She’s after revenge... If I don’t help her, she may find someone much worse than me who won’t be such a gentleman... Least I could do is teach her to shoot and fight._ He shook his head as he lifted himself from his spot, dusted himself off, and started after her.

Rose sat atop the edge of a cliff overlooking the canyon as she watched the sun disappear over the horizon. She sighed deeply as she stared at a photo in her hands, and tears streamed down her face in waves as she wished she could turn back the clock. She wiped her tears and pulled a Wanted Poster out of her pocket that had the name “One-Eyed Jack” written on it with a reward of $35,000,000.

She tightened her fist angrily along the edge of the wanted poster and it began to crumple in her hand.

“I take it you’re out for blood and that’s who you’re gunnin’ for,” McCree drawled behind her. She sniffled and wiped her eyes frantically, but he put a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. “Budge up a bit, wouldja?” She scooted over and he sat next to her on the edge.

“Took me awhile to track you down! You’re pretty good at evadin’ people. You know, I was younger than you when I joined Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe and helped found the Deadlock Rebels. I was fifteen. Unlike you though, I didn’t have lovin’ parents who gave a shit about me, so I left. Either way, I don’t think of you as ‘just a kid’ because we both were. You and I have both been through a lot. I don’t think it’s fair for anyone to judge someone by their age.”

He pulled out a cigar and lit it up, taking a deep drag of it.

“At least in that regard. In the other... well... I’m still on the lookout for some premium mouthwash.” He groaned loudly with disgust and Rose laughed and shook her head, smiling sadly as she tucked the poster of One-Eyed Jack into her pocket and stared at the photo in her hand. She sighed and handed it to McCree.

He gazed at it knowingly and chuckled sadly. It was a picture of a red-haired woman with green eyes in a lab coat kneeling with her right hand giving bunny ears to her daughter, who was the spitting image of her. The only things that were not, were her daughter's eyes. Those were her father’s. The woman’s husband, a kind-looking man with a bald head, thick black glasses, and deep blue eyes, struck a funny pose with his hands in wild positions. Their daughter, Rose, was holding up a little black toy cat and making a silly expression with her tongue stuck out. In the background, was a large stone with Petroglyphs on it.

“They came out here for some archaeology work, contracted by a man named Jack Mulligan. My father discovered who he really was, but by then, it was too late. My father hid me in one of the crates they used to ship artefacts and had me call the authorities. I watched that outlaw kill both of them right in front of me and there was nothing I could do about it...” Rose confessed as more tears streamed down her face.

McCree pulled her into a hug and sighed as he took another drag of his cigar.

“I don’t suppose you’ll let me have a puff of that?” Rose asked.

“Ha! Not a chance in hell!” McCree said, smiling in amusement as he gazed over at her.

_Right now, I’m all she’s got. If I don’t help her out, she’s liable to go off the deep end._

“Alright, well. I just have one condition if I’m gonna help you out here... From now on, we tell each other the truth, the whole truth, and nothin’ but the truth, or else I’m gone,” McCree declared.

“Deal,” Rose said, shaking his hand. They sat there together and watched the sun set for a little while longer before heading back to the cave.

**Author's Note:**

> \--Used lyrics from the song "Hell on Heels" by the Pistol Annies <3


End file.
